Someone's Rocking the Dreamboat complete
by uninvitedCat
Summary: Short story. BtVS Sandman crossover. Dream has a problem with the Dreaming. Buffy just has problems.
1. Chapter 1

NOT MINE! None of the characters are created by me. Rather Joss Whedon and Neil Gaiman are the gifted ones. I'm just playing gently with them (and I promise to return them unbroken to the box afterwards).

***

Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, sat on his throne in his Hall of Endless Night and brooded. His legs were crossed, and one pale hand cupped his chin. His dark eyes were fixed as he felt his realm around him. The Dreaming. Reclaimed after his imprisonment from the wild dreams that had taken advantage of his absence. His bone helm was once more at his side, and his power restored, and yet... And yet there was something wrong. He could feel it, a tiny speck in the Dreaming that was not right. So he sat upon his throne, and brooded over this one speck.

***

... She loved him without even thinking about it. She knew she loved him like she knew how to breathe. It was instinctive. He stood there, in her room, in front of her dresser looking out the window at the tree. She loved him, and relished the fact that he was there with her. The times they'd spent together, celebrating her birthday, watching the Icecapades, doing normal stuff. They were precious to her. He turned, showing her a sad face, tired eyes. As she watched he began to shrink. Gathering speed, he got smaller and smaller as she started towards him, to try and hold him with her. She tried to object but had no voice as with a small 'pop' he disappeared completely. She froze, and gasped as she realised she was alone, bereft...

... She loved him. She could feel it as he stood there, tall dark and handsome like a cliché. Her heart swelled until she thought she would burst open with this love. He stood there, in her room, in front of her dresser, looking out the window into the night and she loved him. He turned, showing her an evil face and he lunged towards her as her happiness became terror and she screamed as she thrust the stake forwards...

... She loved him. He was her rock. She relied on him without even thinking about it. She knew that he would always be able to help. He was behind her, protecting her back. Even as she drew comfort from the thought and knowledge, she felt a small sharp pain in her arm. Her senses swam, but she could just make out his face studying her as he withdrew the needle, then he turned and walked away across the sea and her mind shrieked out at her betrayal...

... She loved her. Without even considering it, she knew she loved her. She knew she loved her like she knew how to breathe. It was instinctive. She stood there, in her room, in front of her dresser. She was looking out of the window, at the leaves on the tree. The love she had for her was all-encompassing and comforting, as she knew she was loved back just as strongly. And as she watched, the woman twitched, a hand going to her head in reaction to a sudden pain. Just as suddenly, the oman fell to the floor, and fell through out of sight. She sat, stunned, on the bed. Slowly, understanding came to her and she began to cry in despair...

... She loved her. Her bedroom mirror was not reflecting her face, rather it showed the terrified face of her sister. Her little sister whom she loved. The little sister who depended upon her for protection from those who would use her. As she watched, she realised that she had failed. There was someone with her sister, someone who was cutting her, and she was not there to stop them. The anguish of failure tore a scream from her throat...

... The mouth of the vortex was dark, promising bad things. The pain of her life, the knowledge of all the people who relied upon her to protect them while she had no-one to protect her. No-one to hold her, to promise that everything would be alright, to be her shelter from the storm of life. It all pressed on her mind _your gift is death_ and she stepped forwards, into the vortex...

... Silence. Peace. Joy. Bliss...

... She loved him without even thinking about it. She knew she loved him like she knew how to breathe. It was instinctive. He stood there, in her room, in front of her dresser looking out the window at the tree. She loved him, and relished the fact that he was there with her. The times they'd spent together, celebrating her birthday, watching the Icecapades, doing normal stuff. They were precious to her. He turned, showing her a sad face, tired eyes. As she watched he began to shrink. Gathering speed, he got smaller and smaller as she started towards him, to try and hold him with her. She tried to object but had no voice as with a small 'pop' he disappeared completely. She froze, and gasped as she realised she was alone, bereft...


	2. Chapter 2

I sit upon my throne in the Hall of Eternal Night and ponder. This mote is something strange, new to me. New, and yet familiar. It isn't a sign of a vortex. This isn't another Rose Walker to tear down the walls between dreamers. No, I know what a vortex feels like and this is different.

The sound of approaching footsteps attract my attention and I watch Lucien approach. He is followed by two I recognise, Orkney and Gulch. They are fillers - whenever a dreamer has a gap, they fill it. They have been many things to many people, but they have never been brave enough to approach me. Not until now. Lucien speaks.  
"Milord Morpheus, Orkney and Gulch have brought a matter to my attention and begged me to intercede with you on their behalf." So. Not that brave then. "It seems that there is a dreamer who is killing dreams."  
"S'right!" Gulch broke silence from behind Lucien's leg. "Tench and Sweebo have been disappeared. They was just doing their bit, and they've been disappeared." Orkney is making 'shush' motions at Gulch, but he refuses to be quenched. "'Snot right. You've got to stop it!" Gulch suddenly realises who he is addressing, and visibly swallows. "Milord, please." He edges back behind Lucien's leg. I raise my gaze to Lucien's eyes.  
"I took the remains of Tench and Sweebo to the Workshop, but the Craftsman was unable to restore them."  
So. The fillers aren't at all brave.

They're terrified.

I wave a hand to dismiss the fillers. Lucien stays, waiting silently while I think.  
"**I am troubled Lucien. A dreamer killing my dreams so thoroughly that not even the Craftsman can restore them? I have watched the cycle of dreams she is having and this seems strange.**"   
Lucien says nothing. There is nothing to say. It is my responsibility, not his. I am Dream of the Endless.

***

I return to the dreamer who still feels wrong, but this time I enter the dreams. I watch silently from the shadows.

... She loves him. She can feel it as he stands there, tall dark and handsome like a cliché. Her heart swells until she thinks she will burst open with this love. He stands there, in her room, in front of her dresser, looking out the window into the night and she loves him. He turns, showing her an evil face and he lunges towards her as her happiness became terror and she screams as she thrust the stake forwards...

... As she thrusts the stake forwards, it changes into a sword. The room also changes, to a larger one of stone, less furniture. A statue behind the man, with it's demon mouth wide open. She has thrust the sword into the man's chest, and I see her look at him, her heart in her eyes. I move sideways, to see better as she pushes with all her body and forces the sword clean through his chest. A dimensional gate collapses, taking the man with it, and I realise why this feels wrong. This is not a dream, not a nightmare at all. This is a memory.

She is standing there, her head bowed and I watch her. Suddenly, one swift movement, and the sword is at my throat.  
"Who are you and why are you staring at me?" She growls at me.  
"**Be at ease.**" I wonder what, how much, to tell her. "**I am Dream. I am not here to harm you.**"  
"Oh goody." Her voice is rich with sarcasm. "Are you the one responsible for giving me these nightmares?" I raise an eyebrow at her question. The sword is still steady at my throat.  
"**No. I am here because these are not dreams. These are memories.**" I reach into my pouch and draw out a pinch of sand. "**Walk with me.**" She considers for a moment, then drops the sword point and nods. I scatter the sand.

***

The walls of Angel's mansion dissolve around us. I keep a firm grip on the sword. Just because he says he means you no harm doesn't mean it's true. I look at him, study him as he's been studying me. Tall. Thin. Wild black hair. I can't believe how pale he is - paler even than most vamps. He's wearing black jeans and T-shirt with some kind of cloak. Black of course. Except round the bottom, there's some kind of design, like flames - or is it faces? I can't decide. But it looks good on him though.

I don't know where we are, but this place is maxing out on the Bizarre-o-meter. We're on a path on a hill that leads down to a pair of strange-looking gates. Through them is a castle. It doesn't look like Dracula's castle, which is of the good, but it doesn't look right either. Bits of it look too big. Not in a they're-closer-so-they-look-bigger kind of way, just like they're not built to the same scale. Like I said. Bizarre.

This Dream guy is walking pretty fast, striding around like he owns the place. Maybe he does.  
"So. Why are we taking a trip?"  
"**This is the Dreaming. My realm. I am responsible for it. Your memories are warping it.**"   
Oh. Well, that was short. Now I just wish Giles were here to tell me what it meant.

***

I walk with him through this freaky landscape. Looking at it, I can believe it's some kind of Dreamland. Things just aren't quite right. Things like perspective. And architecture. That castle is still way weird. Then I see the dot. A small black dot in the sky. The pale man next to me sees it also and stops walking to watch it approach. Suddenly, as it gets closer, I realise it's a bird. A black crow. Or maybe a raven. I'm not good with birds, so I'm not sure which is which. But it's one of them. Anyway, the Dream guy holds out his arm and this bird lands on him.  
"**Hello Matthew.**" He says. Cute. Naming the bird.  
"Hi boss." My mouth drops open. That bird just spoke!  
"**Matthew, have you seen Lucien?**"   
"Probably in the Library boss. He was muttering something about watches earlier."  
"**Thank you.**" The man looks grave. With a flick of his wrist, he launches the bird, Matthew, into the air.  
"I'll tell him you're on your way boss!" Matthew calls as he flies over the gates. The man turns to the gates, then looks at me.  
"**The gates of Ivory and Bone. They mark an entrance to the Dreaming.**" He pauses, reminding me eerily of Oz and how little he spoke. The Dream-guy looks at me intently, then faces the gates and holds up one hand. The gates swing open showing a path up to the bizarre castle.

As we move up the path, I try to get some sense out of him. "So, you say I'm warping this place with this memories? What am I doing?" He looks out of the corner of his eye at me but doesn't break his stride. "Dreams are transient for the most. Things happen and then the dreamer awakes. My dreams that are involved move on to the next. But not with you." We enter the castle and I follow Dream in silence. 


	3. Chapter 3

Willow and Giles would completely love the library in this place. It is so beyond huge. The black bird, Matthew, was perched on a freaky bit of carving when we got there. He was hopping from foot to foot with excitement.  
"Boss! Boss! We've got it!" He blurted as soon as we were through the door. One eyebrow went up on Dream's face.  
"**Indeed.**" He queried. I saw movement from the corner of my eye. I turned, prepared for a threat, and saw another tall, thin pale guy walking towards us with a large book in his hands. They gotta have somewhere that's breeding these guys. This one had a shock of red hair, a tailcoat, and glasses that remind me of Giles. Plus he looked all excited and happy without changing his expression. He was all with the repressed. What is it with librarians being all repressed anyway? As soon as he was close, he stopped walking and began speaking.  
"Milord, I have found this book in the Barely Dreamt Of section. I believe it may answer some of your questions." He handed it over to Dream, who murmured his reply.  
"**Thank you Lucien.**" He began immediately to read. Very quickly. He raced through four or five pages before stopping, and looking hard at me.  
"**You are a Slayer then?**" It wasn't really a question. More of a statement.  
"Yeah." I said with a half-attempted smile. I hefted the sword briefly. "I kill most baddies on two legs, four, more or none."  
"**And you kill dreams.**" He snapped the book shut. "Walk with me." 

***

"'Walk with me' he says, again, but he doesn't say it's going to be for miles." I muttered. My feet hurt - I've been following his back like forever. I've got a majorly creeped-out feeling again. What if everything I've ever dreamt of is in here? What if this Dream gives guided tours or something?

He interrupts my thinking to panic by stopping. We're in a long room with a series of strange pictures on one wall. I look at the one we've stopped next to. The one he's now studying.  
"Hey! I know what that is - it's an ankh!" He glances at me, then turns back to the picture. Except it's not a picture because he's just reached into it and picked up the ankh.  
"**Sister, I stand in my gallery, holding your sigil and I call you.**"  
"Hey! What's up Dream?" A perky female voice comes back through the frame.  
"**I have need of your advice.**"  
"I'm kinda busy right now Dream."  
"**I do not ask lightly, sister.**"  
"Oh OK." 

I stare with surprise as suddenly Dream is no longer holding an ankh but instead a pale, female hand. A hand that is attached to a woman. A Goth-girl-woman. I guess she's the female equivalent of all these tall-pale-thin-with-wild-hair guys. She's got the hair anyway. Black natch. Pale skin, a thin-looking black chemi-top and tight black trousers to die for. She smiles prettily at me and waves as she greets me.  
"Hi! Good to see you again. Just let me have a word with my brother and I'll be right back." Her eyes are warm and wise, but her grip looks firm as she and Dream walk away from me. I can't hear what they're saying, but I can still see them. He's explaining something, and shows her the book. He doesn't do anything as obvious as point at me, but then again he doesn't need to. I wonder who his sister is. She's saying something. Actually, it looks a bit like a lecture. His expression is kinda frozen, but at the same time his head is hanging like he's down about something. She's speaking again, looking a bit impatient and his head hangs down further. Finally, her patience runs out and she smacks him up the back of his head. Snatching the book out of his hand, she flounces back towards me. Normally, I would never say 'flounce' it just wouldn't cross my mind, but that's exactly what she's doing. I guess Giles is rubbing off on me.

"Has my numbskull brother actually explained anything to you?" She looked cross, but I somehow knew it wasn't at me.  
"Uh, yeah, I'm killing his dreams in my sleep because I'm reliving my memories. Or something like that."  
"Yeah, well, it's his fault so don't worry about it." I noticed her brother creeping up behind her as she spoke. "Look, for an anthropomorphic personification he does a very good job of being human at times." I couldn't stop the snigger at the look on his face when he heard that comment. She swung round and saw it too. "Yeah you do Dream, don't try and pretend you don't." She faced back to me. "Look. The way it works is this. Because of the whole prophecy-dreams and troubled-life stuff you got going on, he's supposed to make adjustments. But for some reason, he didn't know you were a Slayer or that you'd died. That makes a difference too." She looks at me expectantly.  
"Huh?" I manage. "Who are you? What's going on here?" I'm starting to get angry now.  
"Think back. I know you'll remember me. We had a bit of a chat, just after the Master drowned you. And then we had another chat, just after your dive into Glory's inter-dimensional gate."  
I rack my brains. She does look familiar. Kinda. In a weird vision-y way. Then it hits me.  
"You're Death!"  
"Yeah. That's me." She's cheerful about it, but in a way that suddenly makes me think of Willow.  
"OK. Now I'm totally freaked. This is the weirdest dream I've had in a while."   
"I can see you're a bit confused about this so let me see if I can de-confuse you. You're a Slayer. You're good at killing things. You also have prophetic dreams that come true, or are true, depending on your point of view. So when you're mixing your memories in with your dreams - nothing unusual there by the way, everyone does it - when you're mixing them, you have the ability to kill in your dreams. Unless my brother twigs that you're a Slayer and makes allowances. To be fair, he's been out of action recently. But he's still an idiot."  
"Does this mean that now he knows, I won't have those dreams again?" She gestures for her brother to answer.  
"**Dreams often help humans organise the day's events in their minds. Memories are often mixed in. A party one went to becomes the basis for a dream of celebration and so on. Now I know, I can stop you from killing my dreams when you sleep. I cannot stop you remembering in your sleep though.**" He stopped speaking and Death slapped him on the arm, obviously prompting him to say something. "**But you will dream easier. You have my word.**" She looked more satisfied at that.  
"Hey Dream, I can't hang about. Busy, y'know." She looks at me again. "And as I know he won't think to tell you, perhaps you'd like to know what your Watcher dreams of for you. Then I'll take you home." She hands me the book, and watches me as I stare at the title. _**The Longest Lived Slayer: Her Family and Friends by Rupert Giles.**_ My throat closes, and my eyes tear up. Giles' dreams for me...

Death takes the book from my hands, and passes it back to her brother. Then she takes my hand.  
"Don't be a stranger now Dream!" She gives him a big smile, and steps into the frame that held her sigil, drawing me in after her.

***

... He smiles in pride as she skates across the ice towards him with the spectators a pplauding loudly, clutching her trophy tightly in her child's hand...

... He holds her tight, close to him and she feels safe and loved like never before...

... His relief is unexpressed in words, but shown with every gesture, glance and pause as she returns alive once more. Still not dead, and she knows it is due to his working far beyond duty to help her...

... She smiles and opens her arms to her. She runs in close for a hug and hears the whispered words "I'm proud of you sweetie. You work so hard and so few know it. But I do and I love you for succeeding and for being you"...

... He smiles in pride as she skates across the ice towards him with the spectators applauding loudly, clutching her trophy tightly in her child's hand. And yet she could swear that she hears in the applause the beating of a mighty pair of wings.

_**FIN**_


End file.
